UTAH INDIANS. 
55 
Uncompahgra, efflorescing with salts in many places, is several miles in width, and the stream 
is lined with cotton-wood trees, willow, and buffalo-berry bushes, and, by crossing it where it 
was thirty feet wide by one deep, we found an abundance of grass and encamped, having 
marched 12.30 miles, descending 87.7 feet to the mile for the last ten miles. This river rises, 
as I have already stated, in the Sierra de la Plata, which appears to set off from the Sierra San 
Juan, and lie nearly parallel with our path, and from fifty to sixty miles distant. Near us are 
two or three Indian lodges, the occupants of which were greatly frightened at our sudden 
appearance. Their young men being absent on the hills hunting, were too timid to return and 
warn their lodges of our approach, for they had seen us, as we had them, long before reaching 
these lodges. Those of the women who could, fled to the thickets with their children; but two 
were too old to run, and were soon assured of their safety. They, however, experienced con¬ 
siderable difficulty in calling the young women from their hiding-places, until their men returned 
and they no longer feared treachery. The two old women bear unmistakable evidence of having 
seen the snows of a hundred winters pass away. They are of small stature, and bent forward 
with years; wearing their coarse hair, still as abundant as in their youth, after the manner of the 
women of their nation: cut short across the forehead, and, passing below the ears, across the nape 
of the neck. It is a little thinned on the edges, and stands off hideously ugly, but gray only in 
a few locks. Their features are dried and shrunken to a mummy-like appearance, with bleared 
eyes, and sunken lips covering teeth worn to the gums. The joints of some of their fingers are 
stiff and distorted, and all are enlarged to ugliness. These poor objects of humanity are clothed 
in ragged, filthy deer-skins, and, on learning that their lives were not in danger, sang and jumped 
with joy at their escape from what they had supposed inevitable death. The most domestic 
scene witnessed was that of a mother who visited our camp with her four little children—the 
five riding the same horse, and all as much at home as mothers and children in a nursery. One 
sat in front of the mother, and one was swung on her back on a frame covered with skins, and 
two rode behind her, leaving no place unoccupied from the horse’s tail to his neck. Presents 
were made to these people by Captain Gunnison. 
September 16.—We travelled 18.25 miles down the Uncompahgra to-day, crossing the stream 
four miles below our morning camp, and again a few miles before encamping this evening, 
a short distance above its junction with Grand river; the descent from camp to camp slightly 
exceeding forty-one feet to the mile. The country is in all respects like that passed yester¬ 
day—cotton-wood, willow, and grass in the narrow bottom, and near it heavy sage; but the great 
mass of the valley land is nearly destitute of vegetation—light, clayey, and arid to such an 
extent that it is disagreeable to ride over it, as it sends up clouds of dust at every step. We 
met several small parties of Indians during the day, all of whom followed us to camp; and 
others continued to arrive until a late hour at night, filling the air as they approached with 
yells and calls, which were answered by their friends in or near camp—consisting of inquiries 
and directions as to how and where they were to pass—until we were heartily tired of them. 
The most of them were sent out of camp, but they built their fires only a few yards from ours, 
and their noise was little abated by the change, and our safety but little increased. They 
had, much to his regret, recognised our guide; but he neither showed fear nor want of confi¬ 
dence in them, although he had once shot one of their chiefs, who was attempting to rob 
him of his horse; and he shared his fire, pipe, and blankets with the chiefs who remained all 
night with him. 
September 17.—Si-ree-chi-wap, the principal chief of the band, who is now so old that he exer¬ 
cises but little authority directly—intrusting it to his son, who accompanies him—arrived during the 
night, and, followed by his sub-chiefs and warriors, this morning repaired to Captain Gunnison’s 
tent to talk and smoke. The Captain informed them that “the President had sent him to look 
for a good road by which his people, who live towards the rising sun, can visit those who live 
upon the great water where it sets; that the President was their friend, and had authorized 
